


One Gift for Another

by paxbanana



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxbanana/pseuds/paxbanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serana catches sight of the Dragonborn regarding an Amulet of Mara and reassesses her priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Gift for Another

It was strange to think one amulet could change Serana's life so dramatically. It wasn't that she'd ever given any extra thought to the Amulet of Mara. The custom was old, old enough that Serana remembered it from her youth. But to see it in the hands of her savior, her protector, her best and only friend turned her thoughts upside down.

Svetlana looked up, saw Serana, and quickly slid the amulet into her pocket. Not for future use, at least not for its enchantment; Svetlana was no healer by any stretch of the imagination. She got to her feet, sturdy and powerful in her silver-buckled Dawnguard armor, and smiled at Serana as if she hadn't just altered the balance of their relationship.

"I have a delivery to make to Windhelm," Svetlana said. "Would you like to come along?"

Serana nodded, despite the oddness she felt within herself. "Lead on. As much as I hate the weather in this country, the cobwebs in this old castle are worse."

They rode west, towards the snowy city. It was some odd time between absolute winter and less-than-absolute winter so the sun was harsher than usual but the snow fell just the same. They met very few travelers on the journey: a few Imperial guard patrols and a hunter around the bend of the mountain that divided Eastmarch from the rest of Skyrim.

Serena's mind looped the image of Svetlana turning that amulet over in her gloved hands like an annoying song. ( _Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes…)_ Of course it was obvious that even as a werewolf Svetlana was not immortal. She would want to marry in her lifetime, perhaps have children. _And why,_ Serana berated herself, _should this upset you so?_ She had made peace with her own immortality long ago.

Who was her gentle werewolf thinking to marry? Surely not a man; she'd never given any indication to seeking companionship from men. Not from women either, though Serana wasn't dense enough to miss the fact the Dragonborn had a few women she flirted with. Serana imagined any one of those women as Svetlana's wife, and it was like swallowing a hot poker.

What was this? She scoffed at herself. Was this jealousy?

Like Serana, Svetlana seemed drawn into her own thoughts. The Dragonborn was a woman of few words as it was, but she was usually not so withdrawn. She offered no reassuring smiles or tidbits about the holds of Skyrim. She didn't comment on the weather, the dragons, or inquire about Serana's thoughts. The silence did not settle Serana's nerves.

The journey was a long one.

By the time they'd made their delivery and settled down at Hjerim for the night, Serana thoroughly regretted accepting Svetlana's invitation to travel. Over dinner, Svetlana offered her a tight smile and broached the topic that had eaten at Serana for the better part of the day. "I suppose you saw the amulet."

"I wasn't aware you were planning to marry," Serana replied, irritated that her voice was tight.

"I've been thinking about it." Svetlana set down her cup and leaned back. She took the amulet from her pocket and set it on the table, where it reflected the fire's light dully. "But only to come to the realization that you would say no."

Serana's breath caught, and her world came crashing back against her like a slingshot. "Me?"

"I'd hoped that I had made my feelings for you very clear." Svetlana smiled gently, her face already drawn in disappointment—disappointment that hurt Serana to see. "But I understand you don't feel the same way."

"It's not that I don't—" Serana began before she even thought about what she was saying; she cut herself off, frightened by her own words. "But I can't. There's no conceivable way…"

Svetlana put her fingers over the amulet and gently pushed it across the table toward Serana. "If you don't mind… Will you hold on to this for me? I don't need it now."

Serana stared at the sapphire at the center of the amulet as Svetlana rose to her feet and padded upstairs. She rubbed her mouth, felt the outline of her fangs through her lips, and knew that her eyes flashed the color of blood in the darkness. Then, slowly, her hand reached out and picked up the amulet. It was warm against the pulse in her palm.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Serana stewed over Svetlana's proposal. Her fingers fiddled with the amulet in her pocket. She thought of what it would mean to marry Svetlana. She thought a lot more about what it meant about Svetlana's feelings for her: her gentle werewolf loved her.

She'd known before—long before this, back in those first days of finding freedom from the hibernation in the crypt—that Svetlana was attracted to her. Serana had even wondered idly what it would be like to fuck Svetlana. Once she'd realized her companion was a werewolf, her thoughts shifted, for surely to be bedded by a werewolf would be getting fucked.

She'd begun to abstractly consider what kinds of effects lycanthropy had on the libido. Serana had been exposed to every misconception about vampirism: that seductive powers meant a skilled lover. Some of the thinking had truth. The ritual to gain the daedric power had stripped Serana of any and every innocence she'd had. But for her that one defiled, carnal night had led into a thousand years of chastity. Not because Serana was innocent but because she, like other vampires, cared more about feeding than sex. Yet it made little sense for animalistic werewolves to mimic their vampire cousins in that way.

Serana contemplated being thrown on a bed, ravaged, rutted by a werewolf that surely would enjoy dominating in sex as much as in combat. Serana swallowed against her dry mouth, thinking of what Svetlana might be capable. She tried to fuse the image of Svetlana the werewolf holding her down and rutting into her with the identity of the gentle, caring woman she knew.

' _Can't we have that and not marry?'_ she wanted to ask Svetlana. But just as Svetlana had known Serana's answer to her proposal, Serana knew Svetlana would decline. She wanted the blessings of the gods, the sanctimony of marriage perhaps more than physical intimacy. It was selfish and stupid, and didn't Serana stand as a prime example that no one wanted the blessings of the gods?

After a month had passed with Serana tearing the floors of the Dawnguard Fort apart by her pacing, she knew she had to confront Svetlana if only to talk this awkwardness out between them. She was too old to waffle on this like some teenager, and she was far too old to lie to herself about how she felt. If Serana ever loved anyone in her life, it would be her werewolf.

So she set off to Whiterun, hoping to catch Svetlana between jobs. High chance that Svetlana would be on a job elsewhere, but waiting in Whiterun would be no different than waxing away anywhere else. She at least had a key to Breezehome for the wait.

She traveled overnight by cart from Riften and arrived the next unbearably sunny morning to Whiterun. Breezehome was dark, the fire out, and the bed looked like it hadn't been used in weeks. Serana braved the hot, bright day and went out to ask about Svetlana's whereabouts. No one had any answers, and Serana swallowed her pride and entered Ysgramor to ask the Companions, who would rather spit on her than talk to her.

Farkas—who was perhaps too dull to understand he was supposed to hate her—was in the main hallway. Fortunately, Aela was nowhere in sight; she took Serana's presence as a personal insult. "Do you know when Svetlana will be back?"

"No clue," Farkas replied unhelpfully. "She's not been hanging around here much lately. Aela's set to tear down some walls."

The information about Aela stung, but Serana's fingers found the amulet that Svetlana had given her. Aela would never see this necklace. Serana quickly turned her mind to more practical matters. "Do you know who she's been working for?"

He shrugged. "Last I heard it was your ilk she was fighting, with that group, the Dawnguard was it?"

"We've thwarted that great threat," Serana replied a little facetiously. "I thought she was an important part of your order?"

"She is. And we're doing well and all, but maybe because a lot of us—and her—gave up our werewolf blessings, we've been less of a pack and more a, you know, group of mercenaries."

Serana's mouth fell open, and once again, Svetlana threw her for a loop. "She…gave up her werewolf blessing? But why?"

Farkas shrugged. "She's got her reasons, like the rest of us do. Never thought to ask."

Serana stared at him, then down at the table, tracing the outline of the amulet in her fingers. That annoying thought was resurfacing stronger than ever, and she needed to be alone to meditate on it—seriously—for the first time in her life. "Thank you, Farkas."

"Take care of yourself. If you need anything, let us know."

Back in Breezehome, Serana took the amulet out of her pocket and pressed it against her forehead. She traced her tongue over her fangs and closed her too-bright eyes against the darkness in the house. Svetlana had never once asked her if she'd give up her vampire blessing, even when Serana had seen the question in her eyes.

It felt like failure, like giving up, like making all that pain and humiliation she'd endured for the blessing futile and worthless. Throwing it away for what: a death in thirty years, for limited energy and limited power. For love…

It wasn't that she thought she had to earn Svetlana's love by giving up her blessing—curse. But perhaps to be worthy of it herself. Serana had known for a long time—though she may not have admitted it to herself until more recently—that she loved Svetlana. She would die for her gentle werewolf—gentle Nord. It would be easy to keep her immortality, to watch Svetlana age, fade away, and die while continuing on in her own life. It would be terribly difficult to do the same while loving Svetlana as her wife.

And there was the crux of it.

Serana imagined a life with Svetlana as her wife, of adventuring and living together, of retiring together and settling down and growing old to die in each other's arms after a long, happy mortal life together. It was so alluring easy.

But could she support such a powerful warrior half as well without her vampirism? Serana scoffed at the thought. Now she was just being maudlin. She'd been a powerful sorceress before the ritual. She would be as powerful as before, without the weaknesses to the sun and the strength in the night.

She would no longer hunger for blood.

"You're really thinking about this," she said aloud, shocking herself.

Serana traced her thumb over the amulet's face and kissed it, sliding it back into her pocket. Maybe she'd be able to return it to Svetlana sometime soon.

* * *

Never in her wildest dreams would Serana have guessed Isran's words to her question would be, "Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure," she snapped. "I thought it would be a good idea to get an informed opinion before I make my decision."

He cocked his head, his dark face drawn in concern. He rubbed his beard and nodded vaguely. "There's a man in Morthal named Falion that's known for curing even the most advanced cases of vampirism."

"Any idea how much this will cost?"

"Rumor has it he requires a filled black soul gem."

"At least that's easy," Serana mumbled to herself.

Isran's hand on her arm stayed her. It was so out of character for him to touch her much less look at her with the quiet concern on his face that he gained her full attention. "I cannot say this turn of events displeases me," he admitted, "But think carefully about why you're doing this. It wouldn't do take out any regrets on someone else."

"This has been a long time coming, honestly, and the decision isn't made lightly. But thanks."

"Good luck."

* * *

Morthal was a dingy little hold if she'd ever seen one. She and Svetlana had never had the time to wander through here, and now Serana saw why. There was absolutely nothing here except mudcrabs and marsh and mist.

"I'm here to speak with Falion."

One of the guards pointed her towards a Redguard in blue robes. As soon as he saw her, he motioned for Serana to follow him. They entered a dingy little house—his, she assumed—and settled together at his table. "I haven't seen a vampire so pure as you," he said, his eyes tracing over her features hungrily. "Why, this is very interesting."

"So you're interested in me." Serana didn't like his almost lustful curiosity. She kept her tone light and flashed her fangs. "And I'm interested in being cured."

"Very interesting," he repeated, clueless to her warning.

"I have a few questions."

"Indeed, that would make sense. Surely one as powerful and ancient as you would have reservations."

This man's attitude was grating. Serana smiled, keeping her fangs to herself this time, and asked, "I'm very old, yes. That's one of my reservations. If I'm cured, my age won't…catch up to me, will it?"

"No, no. You'll simply resume aging at the normal pace from when you were first cursed."

It was an age-old defense that rose within her at the word 'cursed', but she kept it to herself. By calling it a blessing, perhaps it was easier to stomach that she'd defiled herself with a daedra in the most depraved ways. "And, my powers?"

"Well, vampirism certainly has…properties that help sorcery and the like, but your natural abilities are as they are. And clearly what you've learned as a vampire will not erase itself. You will be you, simply without immortality and the need to feed. It's a simple as curing a disease."

These were the conditions she set for herself accepting this cure. If she bobbled now, Serana knew she would never come back and she would never move on with her life. She would watch the love of her life age and fade and die, and she would continue on for no other reason than to live forever.

Serana set the filled black soul gem on the table. "Then let's do it."

Falion's eyes widened. "Certainly. Wonderful. We'll need to wait for dawn, of course. Would you like to dine with us? Or do you plan to take another bloodmeal for old time's sake?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Where should we meet?"

"There's a summoning circle north northwest of here. It might be best to meet me here first."

"I'm sure I'll be able to find it."

He smiled eerily. "Well, if you get lost, there's always the morning after."

* * *

Serana sat down in the center of the stone circle in the black of night and let the sounds of the marsh wash over her. This would be her last night as a vampire. The air would never taste this sweet, the darkness would never be quite so friendly, and her aching hunger would never be so great. Maybe she should have taken Falion's suggestion: to feed her last night, gorge herself on the lifeblood of mortals in a way she would never appreciate again.

But there was a calmness of fasting her last night. She could take herself away from this curse clean, ready to embrace a new life—or her old life, perhaps, as a mortal.

For the first time Serana considered what her mother might think. Surely Valerica would say she was insane to throw away immortality—all that unlimited time to better delve into the art of necromancy. Serana laughed into the darkness. She loved her mother as a child always would love her mother, but she was not blinded against Valerica's practicality.

Perhaps it was good she hadn't thought to ask her mother's advice; Valerica might have actually dissuaded her. Or maybe she would have made up Serana's mind more firmly. It was too late now, with the grayness of dawn barely creeping its fingers into the blackness of night. Valerica would have an eternity to chastise Serana for her "mistake".

"Good morning." Serana greeted Falion as he stepped into the circle with her. He seemed surprised to see her, but he smiled all the same and replied, "Are you ready to begin?"

* * *

She'd expected to feel tired, but Serana only felt elation at the ability to appreciate the beauty of the morning sunlight. She threw off her hood and felt the sun stretch the skin of her face gently, and there was no pain of a sharp headache, only energy and joy. So unexpectedly beautiful was this change that Serana didn't balk at her legs growing tired from the short walk back to Morthal.

Even the ache that set in her backside and thighs from the long ride back to Whiterun did nothing to break away the incredible lightness around her shoulders. She felt as thought she'd shed a thousand unhappy years from herself. She felt like she could breathe again.

Another hunger set in as she made the journey to Whiterun. In her mood, Serana reveled in the gentle growling of her stomach, and she envisioned the venison stew or fried chicken eggs and potatoes or… She spurred her pony on, laughing at herself, hoping desperately that Svetlana would be there when she arrived.

Approaching the evening, the Dragonsreach crept up in the distance. She and her pony alike were ready to be in the safety of Whiterun. They made the rest of the ground quickly, and her pony practically walked into his normal stall before Serana could dismount.

She nearly fell when she slid out of the saddle. Her body was used to this work, but her mind wasn't used to feeling the effects. She paid the stablemaster and finally stepped through the heavy doors of Whiterun. Serana held her breath and she walked up to Breezehome. The windows flickered with firelight. She laughed.

As she opened the door, Svetlana called out, "Lydia, is something wrong?"

Svetlana's back was to the door, and she didn't turn. Serana replied, "I would assume not, since I'm not Lydia."

Svetlana turned around. "Serana? Is something wrong?"

"Didn't I just say nothing was wrong?"

But Svetlana had seen the change. She drew close, and Serana dropped her hood, fighting tears—tears of joy—and then they were hugging, pressed tight against each other, breathing as one. "But, Serana, why?"

Serana reached into her pocket and pressed the Amulet of Mara into Svetlana's hand. "Here. Ask me again."

Svetlana stared at the amulet. Her thumb traced over the stone Serana had caressed countless times in the last month. "Are you sure?"

"This is what I want. You are what I want."

Svetlana's arms wrapped around her once more. Serana knew she was finally home.


End file.
